A Slumbering Feast

Cynical Wordsmith

Insomnia, I find,
Is very bittersweet.
The night of,
And the day after,
Are utterly miserable.
The trudgery and drudgery of the day,
Seems ceaseless.
This way, that,
Do that, this,
The mental exhaustion continues
Until I am a shell, hollow,
An empty cockpit
On autopilot.

I’m filled with daydreams
Of such glorious sleep.
That all day yearning
That has led to this moment
Where I can finally,

But that second wind comes,
And the Gods laugh at my pain.
And this night, like every night,
Will invariably be the same.
I feel as though I’ve been starving,
Searching for fruit or for game,
And when I finally appease this hunger,
I fear I shall never wake again.

View original post

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.